A Poet's Dream
by SFGrl
Summary: Satine is deceived, and Christian is destroyed...can fate save a poet's dream?
1. The Beginning of The Ending

AN: OMG, hold your breath for yet _another_ alternate ending. WAIT! Don't run away yet! Only parts of the ending are being used...I am going to twist things a bit, and play around with the whole sordid scene...the story begins around the time of "The Storm" (Don't they all?). Anyway, on with the show!!!

_~A Poet's Dream~_

Why does my hear cry? 

_Feelings I can't fight_

_You're free to leave me,_

_But just don't deceive me,_

_And please believe me_

_When I say I love you!_

"Satine!! SATIIIIINE!" Christian screamed, his heart filled with an uncontrollable panic and his soul filled with a longing to hear Satine say that she was choosing the penniless sitar player...the penniless poet. But his cries for redemption went unheard...at least by Satine. Two of Zidler's men did hear Christian, and they dragged him out into the street, before pounding him with their fists. But when it became evident that the boy was not going to put up much of a fight, they tossed him onto the rain- soaked streets, and returned to the dry warmth of the theatre.

Christian raised a weary head, but could not find the strength to stand. He dropped his head down into the puddle in front of him, and closed out the universe.

***

**_~Two hours earlier~_**

"I'm going away from you! Away from the Moulin Rouge! Goodbye, Harold!"

"You're dying, Satine." It was Harold's trump card, the one he only vowed to pull out under the direst of circumstances. Satine's recent coughing fits, (due more to her dangerously tight corsets than anything) had helped Harold devise the plan. He could see that she loved that damn writer, and that soon, she would fly away from him. Harold needed Satine now, much more than she needed him, and that frightened him. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his little sparrow, but he also knew that the show must go on. He also knew, that in order to convince Satine that she was dying; he would have to make Marie believe the lie. And she had. So, when Satine looked at Marie, panic-stricken and hopeful, all Marie could do was nod sadly. Harold's heart broke, as Satine collapsed into a fit of tears.

***

**_~After The Storm~_**

Christian pulled himself up against a darkened wall, and slumped down into the shadows of the night. He watched with bitterness, as new and old patrons of the converted Moulin Rouge made their way inside for a show they would never forget. _His_ show. _His_ dream. His life...thrown away for a deceitful courtesan's fickle heart. He felt his eyes grow heavy, as the rain began to let up. His eyes closed, and his body slumped forward, as darkness engulfed him once more.

*

Toulouse searched everywhere, but there was no sign of Christian. He was not at his garret, nor was he at the theatre. Toulouse knew he had to get to the theatre for the show, but his concern for his friend was mounting.

Where could he be?

***

The show went off without incident. The Hindu courtesan chose the evil Maharajah. And the audience ate it up. Satine received a standing ovation. As she stood center stage, she smiled sourly at the sickening irony of it all. This had been her dream. She had long dreamed for a day when the audience would rise to their feet, and cheer her for her performance, not as a Sparkling Diamond, but as an actress. _A real actress_. Now she was in the moment, standing inside her dream, and she realized that this was no longer the dream she cherished. She longed for Christian, with all of her heart and soul. This show, this performance, it was full of a naïve poet's dreams. Dreams that she had shattered, dreams that she had shared, once upon a time.

He had given her the dream. The dream of happiness, and of love. He had given her his heart, and had asked for nothing in return. As the crowd continued to cheer, and Harold beamed with pride, Satine felt the emptiness consume her. She suddenly felt as though the entire world was collapsing around her. The curtain fell once more, and Satine closed her eyes, hoping with her entire being that she would awaken in Christian's arms.

"Stunning performance, my dear," The Duke's slithery voice pulled Satine from her reverie.

"Why thank you, dear Duke," Satine purred. Her Sparkling Diamond, it seemed, was always near by.

"Shall we adjourn to the Gothic Tower for supper?"

"Of course, dear Duke. Just let me change. I'll meet you there shortly."

"As you wish, my darling," The Duke smiled possessively, and walked off the darkened stage.

Satine watched the Duke depart, then took a deep, shaky breath. She needed to see Christian, more than anything. Satine changed quickly, and, as she emerged from her dressing room, the Argentinean collapsed onto the finale backdrop, causing a whirlwind of chaos. Smiling wryly, Satine used the distraction to make her escape.

*

Satine was wheezing by the time she made it to Christian's garret. Composing herself, she lifted a delicate hand, and knocked lightly, as she contorted her face into an expression of guilt and sadness. It was the first time since the beginning of the show that she allowed herself to wear her emotions on her face. She stepped back, as the doorknob jiggled, and the door swung open. Satine squinted, as the light from the room flooded the hallway.

"Toulouse, what are you…where's Christian?"

"I was hoping you could tell us, mademoiselle," Toulouse whispered.

"When did you…I mean, the show just ended."

"I couldn't find Christian before the show, and so I came back here directly after curtain call, hoping that he'd returned. I…I fear that something horrible has happened."

Satine gasped sharply, "No Toulouse, don't say such a thing. I'm sure he's just upset, and…"

"Mademoiselle, pardon the intrusion, but why would Christian be upset?"

Satine looked at the diminutive artist, and felt her defenses drop. She had to tell someone what had happened before the show, and she knew she could trust Toulouse.

"Oh Toulouse! I've ruined everything!" Satine cried, exasperated. "I told Christian that I was choosing the Duke, and I fear that the jealousy has driven him mad!"

"But Mademoiselle, why would you do such a thing?"

"Harry told me that the Duke was going to have Christian killed," Satine whispered.

They were silent for a moment, but the stillness of the night did nothing to calm either soul.

"We must find Christian," Toulouse said suddenly, deciding he'd heard enough. He grabbed his jacket, and made his way out the door, with a slightly shaken Satine close behind.

***

The first thing he noticed was the throbbing. The relentless, painful pounding coming from somewhere deep inside his head. He opened his eyes slowly, and noted that the pounding rain had turned into a light snow flurry. It was then that he noted that it was bitterly cold, and that he was wet, and missing a coat. As his brain registered this information, his body shivered. Where was he? He scanned the area, and noted that he was in a large ditch, in a small ally, and the Moulin Rouge was across the road. Then, it all came flooding back to him. The words that Satine had said still stung, and Christian felt his eyes well up again. Why had she pretended? Why had she lied to him? She knew that she had is heart, and she seemingly used it to get what she wanted. But what could she possibly have had to gain by pretending to love him? Wouldn't it all have been much simpler to simply charm the Duke? 

The Duke. He had offered her everything she'd always wanted. That's what she said. Christian laughed bitterly, and wondered if the Duke had offered Satine his heart. Doubtful. But, then, the conniving courtesan deserved a man that would provide nothing more than fame and fortune. She had destroyed his dream. She was dead to him now.

Pulling himself up from the filthy ditch, Christian, staggered out onto the street. His head was still woozy, and his body ached from being contorted in an odd position for so long. He wandered toward his garret, looking up just in time to see two very familiar faces walking toward him. He scowled stubbornly, as they approached.

*

"Christian? Oh, Christian, what happened to you?" Satine tried to reach out to Christian, but he grunted and backed away from her touch.

"Christian, let us help you," Toulouse pleaded.

"Leave me alone," Christian muttered, his harsh stare burning a hole in Satine's soul.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

Satine turned around, and found herself face to face with the last person she wanted to see. The one person who held their collective fates in his skinny hands, the one who wanted Satine for his own, and wanted Christian dead.

The Duke.


	2. Bounded Souls

_~A Poet's Dream~_

_Chapter Two_

_Bounded Souls_

_And if you wed another_

_I would have to kill you._

_Both in bed my lover_

_I would rather see you dead and under covers then in front of the world._

_And exposing for all others, skin in which I curled. _

_I would be your Indian lover._

_I would be your Indian lover._

_I would be your Indian lover boy._

_Feel my joy. _

_And if you touch a man then you can fully expect I will abort my plan to woe you so circumspect. _

_I'll cross the gate of Hell and sell what is left then of my soul _

_And in exchange I'll lay away my dying role. _

_I would be your Indian lover._

_I would be your Indian lover._

_I would be your Indian lover boy._

_Feel my joy. _

_(Indian Lover, by Jude Christodal)_

~*~

"My dear Duke, I was just telling our writer that his show was a success," Satine stammered quickly.

"I see," the Duke replied suspiciously, as he eyed Christian. The boy was filthy, wet, bruised and bleeding. It seemed to the Duke that the Show was the last thing he could possibly care about.

"Yes, Christian and I were just leaving," Toulouse added desperately.

"I'll leave you to your future then," Christian whispered hoarsely. He turned quickly and headed toward his garret.

Satine watched Christian leave, her heart breaking. She wanted desperately to explain everything to him, but the entire thing now seemed futile. Her words would have done nothing to comfort him, knowing that no matter how the scenario was painted, in the end, Satine was going to stay with the Duke.

"Shall we adjourn to the Tower, my dear?" The Duke took Satine's hand, and held onto it tightly, an indication that it was not so much a question, as it was a demand.

"Yes, lets," Satine shot Toulouse a helpless glance, before being pulled away by The Duke. 

Toulouse sighed deeply. He wanted more than anything to help Christian and Satine, but he had no idea how. Straightening his shoulders, he turned and walked toward Christian's garret, hoping that his friend would listen when he told him the truth.

Truth. It was a word that held so much more meaning now. No longer was it simply a part of a Bohemian mantra, it seemed now to hold the fates and dreams of every person who was held prisoner by it. _Truth_, Toulouse laughed to himself as he ascended the steps to Christian's room, _is as subjective as beauty, as rare as freedom, and as painfully sweet as love. _

How ironic.

Toulouse had half expected to find his friend slumped in the corner of his garret, a bottle of absinthe dangling from his fingers hopelessly. Instead, what he found was a man filled with jealous rage, with blind passion, and filled with a love he didn't know how to control. Christian was pacing the floor of his garret, mumbling harsh words to himself, to the wall, to the sky. He did not pause, or even slow, when Toulouse entered the room.

"Christian, I--"

"I want to kill them, Toulouse, I want them gone, and I want to die too. That's how much this hurts, that's what she's done to me..." Christian spat out the words in a bitter rage, but Toulouse could see in his eyes that he was, more than anything, sad.

"Christian, I know why Satine chose the Duke."

"I know as well. _He can give her everything she's always wanted_," Christian mocked Satine's earlier statements to him.

"No, Christian, she loves you, I know she does. She--she did this to save you."

"To save me?" Christian stopped pacing and stared incredulously at Toulouse. "To save me from what? From myself? From my dreams? From happiness?"

"The Duke was going to have you killed if you returned to the Moulin Rouge. Satine drove you away the only way she knew how. She loves you, Christian. She hurt you, to save you."

Christian let Toulouse's statement sink in. She loved him? But...they could have just run away together. Why couldn't she see that? Christian decided that he needed to speak to Satine, as soon as possible. His mind began to whirl, and he turned to Toulouse, with a new determination set in his eyes.

"Toulouse, is the Duke attending tonight's performance?"

"Yes, I-I think so."

"Can you make sure he is not backstage before the show tonight?"

"I can try...Christian, what are you planning?"

"I'm not sure, but I need to see Satine alone. Can you help me do that?"

"For love, I will do anything," Toulouse said, his words holding dual meanings in his heart.

***

Christian woke up at dusk, coughing wildly. He shook it off, and pulled himself out of bed, despite the painful protests from his head and body. He fetched the Argentinean's suit, and dressed quickly. He was still unsure about what he was going to say to Satine, but he knew that he had to act quickly. Toulouse warned that Warner, the Duke's manservant, would most likely spend the night lurking backstage.

*

The Moulin Rouge was brilliantly lit, and shined like a beacon in the black night sky. Christian approached slowly, careful to avoid the burly guards who had tossed him into the street the night before. He slipped in unnoticed, and quickly moved toward the stage. Peering around him, he quickly walked backstage, and headed for Satine's dressing room.

*

Inside her dressing room, Satine finished applying her make-up, in a weak attempt to mask the pain she was feeling inside. Christian was angry...he had every right to be. Satine had sucked the life right out of him, and, not surprisingly, out of herself as well. She realized that she and Christian were bound souls, and that everything that happens to his soul, happens to hers as well. A soft knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts, and she realized that it must be time. Straightening her headpiece, she rose, and opened the door. Her Sparkling Diamond smile faded, when she saw Christian standing on the other side.

"Christian...what are you doing here? Are you alright?" Satine noted that his bruises seemed to be slightly less noticeable, but the real difference between the Christian she'd seen last night and the one standing here tonight was in his eyes. While last night they were full of pain and anger, tonight, they seemed filled with something else...something Satine could not read.

"Satine, do you love me?" Christian whispered, as he made his way into the dressing room.

"What?"

"Do you love me?"

"I...uh," Satine wasn't sure what to say. Of course she loved him! But she didn't want him to fight for her. She wanted him away from here, safe, and alive.

"It's a relatively simple question, Satine. Either you love me, or you don't. Please. I don't care that the Duke wants me dead. I need to know that truth."

Satine looked up at Christian, shock registering in her eyes. He knew? He knew, and he came back? Just to find out if she loved him?

"Christian, I--" Suddenly, the door was kicked open, and Warner, the Duke's manservant came crashing in, followed closely by the Duke himself. Apparently, Christian had not slipped into the theatre unnoticed after all.

"Take him away from here," the Duke said blandly, as though he was bored with the entire scenario, "And make sure he never returns."

Warner grabbed a struggling Christian, and dragged him toward the door. Christian freed himself briefly, and ran back toward Satine.

"Satine," Christian cried, "tell me the truth, please!"

Satine attempted to move toward Christian, but was stopped by the Duke. Ignoring his demands for silence and obedience, she struggled with the Duke as she looked into Christian's eyes.

"Until my dying day," she yelled, as Warner grabbed Christian roughly, and pistol-whipped him into submission. Satine screamed, and began to sob wildly, as Warner dragged Christian's half-conscious body from her dressing room.

The Duke grabbed Satine again, but she pulled away, and kicked over her chair.

"My dear..." The Duke reasoned calmly. It was then that Satine remembered that she was dying...and that the Duke did not know...

"No! I swear to you, Duke, if you kill Christian, I will not live long enough to see the final curtain tonight."

As though on cue, Marie appeared in the doorway.

"They need you on stage, my dear."

Satine glanced in the mirror, wiped her tears, and breezed past the Duke airily. At the doorway, she turned to the Duke.

"My life is in your hands, Duke." With that, she spun around, and headed toward the stage door.


	3. Walk Away From Love

_~A Poet's Dream~_

_Chapter Three_

_Walk Away From Love_

The Duke stood frozen in place, shocked by Satine's audacity. She wouldn't...would she? He closed his eyes. She had discovered that his greatest weakness was...her. Sighing angrily, he set out to find Warner.

*

Christian found himself, once again, in a cold, wet ditch on the street. The fog surrounding him began to lift, and he struggled to stand. Warner picked up Christian, and tossed him into a vacant alleyway. Christian willed himself to focus, his head pounding furiously, as Warner pulled out his pistol. Christian looked up at Warner, and smiled ruefully.

Warner pointed the gun at Christian's head, and wordlessly dared him to continue smiling. 

But Christian couldn't help it. Content in the knowledge that Satine loved him, that she had always loved him, he knew that he could die happy. He didn't want to lose Satine, but he knew that, someday, they would be together.

Forever.

Warner cocked the gun, and roughly pressed the barrel against Christian's forehead. He paused, as Christian began singing out a strangely haunting tune.

"It only hurts me when I'm awake. It seems to die with dreaming and there is only so much that I can fake when my whole life comes careening down, I will not die. It only kills me cause I'm alive and the living this disaster and it's all I can do now to survive I live to beat my master down, I will not die. Down, I will not die."

Warner was taken aback by the boy's odd behavior. He pulled the pistol from the boy's forehead, and watched in awe, as Christian turned his head toward the Moulin Rouge. 

_"When I'm well I long to be only in love with you. But I guess I'll never be holding you know it's true. It does not stop me that we all die. I know this trip's to slaughter. But if only I could let me cry I feel the healing water falling down, I will not die. Down, I will not die. Down, I will not die. When you're my angel I can fly..._

_When you're my angel I can fly. When you're my angel I can fly."_

Christian smiled, and turned toward Warner, who seemed completely distracted by Christian's song. Christian took advantage of the opportunity, and jumped up, startling Warner. Christian shoved Warner, and ran from the alleyway, his head spinning, and his chest tightening. He heard Warner jump back to life, and begin to chase him down the darkened streets. As Christian turned the corner, he ran headlong into the Duke. Gasping audibly, he shoved past the Duke, and began to run again. He heard the thumping of Warner's footsteps, and he heard the Duke cry out, as a thundering shot rang out, echoing through the streets.

*

Satine rushed into her dressing room, and threw open the door, only to find it completely empty. Evidence of the pre-show chaos lay throughout the room, and Satine fought to keep professional control. Marie rushed in, and Satine jerked back into reality, and began changing for the next act.

"Marie, did you see where the Duke went after I left earlier?" Satine fought to keep her voice steady.

"No, my dear, but he seemed to be in a bit of a hurry."

Satine nodded, and closed her eyes, as Marie adjusted her gown. She prayed that the Duke had reached Christian in time. She would agree to stay with the Duke forever, if only the Duke would spare Christian's life. Christian had so much to give the world, so much talent, and so much beauty. She would walk away from love, if it meant that Christian would have the chance to share his poetry with the world.

Her heart hurt. It was an awful pain, and Satine had to catch her breath. She wondered what it was. It didn't feel physical. It felt...spiritual. She felt the pain in her soul, and suddenly, she felt a dark panic rise up into her throat. She grabbed a shawl, and ran from the dressing room, sweeping past a befuddled Harold.

"Satine, my dear, where are you going? We need you on stage in a minute! Satine? Satine!"

Satine ignored Harold's beckon, as she raced out of the theatre, and onto the street.

*

Christian collapsed, as a searing pain pierced his entire body. He cried out in pain, as he landed on the cold, wet roadway. Falling completely onto the ground, he could feel hot blood trickle down his cold arm, an ominous sign that the end was near.

The Duke rushed to Christian's side, followed shortly by Warner. Christian could hear the Duke shout something at Warner, but the world around him was growing increasingly fuzzy. That was when he heard the scream.

*

The Duke watched in horror, as Warner extended his pistol and fired a single shot into the cold night. Before he could react, the Duke saw Christian contort, and fall to the ground. He ran toward Christian, but couldn't bring himself to touch the boy.

"Warner, fetch the doctor," the Duke screamed, and watched as Warner ran off. Another, much smaller frame, soon replaced his retreating figure.

*

Satine looked around frantically, then heard footsteps approaching her. She turned toward the sound, and stared intently, as her eyes dilated in the sudden darkness of the street. She spotted a figure on the ground, and another, hovering above. In her heart she knew immediately, that the man on the ground was Christian. She cried out, and ran toward Christian, passing Warner on the way.

"Christian? Oh, no, no! Christian?" Satine collapsed to her knees, her heart racing wildly. The Duke watched the scene intently, possessive jealousy rising within him, replacing what little sympathy and guilt he'd had for Christian.

"Satine? Satine, I--" Christian felt his body weakening, just as Satine tightened her grip on his body.

"Christian, please, stay with me, please, please don't leave."

"My darling, you are my angel...and I can fly..." Christian whispered.

"No! Christian, don't, don't you fly away without me!"

The doctor appeared at that moment, and Satine wept loudly, as Christian lost consciousness completely. 

"Christian!" Satine cried out, as Harold and the Duke pulled her away from the now chaotic scene.

"Christian...I...no…" Satine was shaking, but stopped herself at the doorway of the theatre, and straightened.

"_Come what may.... I will love you...until my dying day_!"

***

A warm, yellow glow filled the room, as the soft sounds of the early morning marked the beginning of a new day. Christian opened his eyes, unaware of the fact that he had been in bed for days. His eyes focused on a large water pitcher, sitting on the other end of the room. As his vision cleared, he scanned the room slowly. Where was he? The peaceful silence was almost unnerving to him. In all the time he had spent here in Montmartre, it had rarely been this peaceful. He struggled to sit up, and when he did, he realized just how heavy his head was. His shoulder ached tremendously, and he felt groggy. Struggling to look out of the window, Christian noted that he could see the center garden of the Moulin Rouge. Was he _in_ the Moulin Rouge? And if so, where was he? The scene in front of him looked familiar, but...he was certain he had never been in this room before. It was then that the door to his room opened slowly, and as Christian turned his head, Marie appeared.

"Marie," Christian whispered.

"You're awake," Marie smiled warmly.

"Where am I?"

"You are at the Moulin Rouge."

"Yes, but...where? I can see the garden...and it looks like I'm--"

"In the Elephant. You are."

"But this room..."

"This room is not used much anymore. The Duke insisted that you be hidden away."

"But why?"

"He has his reasons, no matter how irrational. You should get some rest, boy."

"Where is Satine?"

"She is...not here, anymore Christian. She has gone away with the Duke."

"What?" Christian wanted to jump up and shout in anger, yell at Marie for letting Satine go, but he was so exhausted, and in too much pain to speak much louder than a whisper.

"They will return soon. The Duke wants to check on your condition."

Christian eyed Marie suspiciously. "Why?"

"Get some rest, boy. I've said too much already. The Duke will explain upon his return. Now sleep."

Christian grumbled, as Marie pulled a blanket over his shoulders.

"All will be revealed in time, my young poet."

"I just want to see Satine."

Marie sighed sadly. She knew that he would not get his wish, but she didn't have the heart to tell him as much. Instead, she left the room quietly, as Christian gave into his exhaustion once more.

~*~

(AN: "I Will Not Die" Words & Music by Jude Christodal, "Come What May" Words & Music by David Baerwald)


	4. When You Were Mine

_~A Poet's Dream~_

_Chapter Four_

_When You Were Mine_

Christian opened his eyes, his head still throbbing madly. He was still in the strange room at the bottom of the Elephant. That was all he knew. He wondered how long he had been laying here? He struggled to sit up, just as the Duke entered the room.

"Where's Satine?" Christian asked bitterly, his body tensing as the Duke approached.

"She's waiting for me in the Gothic Tower. You must understand, that you cannot make her happy. You cannot give her what I can, Boy. It is better this way."

"She doesn't love you."

"Love...is an over-rated, Bohemian myth. Soon, you will understand that."

Christian eyed the Duke crossly, and tried to rise as the Duke headed toward the door, but his head was swimming, and he found that he was still too weak to stand.

"Satine wishes you well," The Duke smiled, and left Christian to stew in his jealousy. 

***

Christian opened his eyes again, and tried to focus on the noise that was coming from outside his room. There were muffled voices, several of them, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Suddenly, the voices stopped, and Toulouse entered the room.

"Toulouse...wh-where is--"

"Satine? They've already left."

"Wh-What?"

"She and the Duke...they are to be married."

"She doesn't love him," Christian whispered.

"She chose to leave, Christian...she wanted to leave."

"You're lying!" Christian felt his throat closing up.

"I am not lying. She asked me to give this to you. I'm so sorry Christian," Toulouse pulled out a slip of paper, and a ticket, and placed it on the table next to Christian's bed, before silently leaving the room.

Christian picked up the paper, and ran his thumb over it, nervously. He then picked up the ticket, and saw that it was a one-way ticket back to England. Turning his attention back to the note, Christian unfolded the off-white paper slowly, as he swallowed nervously. His eyes scanned the page, and he realized that he had lost...everything.

~

_My Darling Christian,_

_I know that this is all very confusing for you. One moment I love you, the next I tell you I don't, and then...I wish I could tell you that things could end wonderfully, and that I would not have to hurt you again. But The Duke holds much more than my future, and your future, in his hands. You must understand, my darling, that this is for the best. This is all for the best. You will go on, you will find love again. Of this, I am certain. I only hope that when you do find love, you keep a tiny place in your heart for me, as I will for you. I love you Christian, but in the real world, that isn't enough._

_Come What May,_

_Satine_

~

Christian felt his eyes welling up with tears. This wasn't the end. It couldn't be.

***~***

**_~One Week Earlier~_**

"Where is he? Is he alright?" Satine was panicked and distraught, her frail body shaking violently.

"He'll live," Harold said slowly, "But he isn't yet awake, my dear."

"I must see him, Harold! Please!"

"In time, Satine. Right now you must rest. Tomorrow will be a long day for everyone."

Satine relented, suddenly feeling her exhaustion catching up with her. She slept restlessly, and woke early. Slipping out of her room, she made her way toward the bottom of the elephant, and into the room that no one was supposed to have known about.

Several years earlier, a young courtesan, a brilliant starlet who'd shined as brightly as Satine, had taken her own life in that room. After that night, the room was concealed, and the top of the Elephant was the only room that was to be used. 

Satine walked into the darkened room, and sat down next to Christian's unconscious form. She sighed softly, and took Christian's hand, praying that he would open his eyes, for her.

He didn't.

She sat, watching silently, as tears slipped down her face. She opened her mouth, and sang out softly.

"Now I never meant, to do you wrong, that's what I came here to say. But if I was wrong, then I'm sorry; I don't let it stand in our way. As my head just aches, when I think of, the things that I shouldn't have done. But, life is for living, we all know, and I don't wanna live it alone."

She kissed him tenderly, and left the room silently, hoping that he'd heard her plea.

*

"Satine, the Duke has asked for your hand in marriage. He is threatening to close the Moulin Rouge, and to...my darling, I know that you love Christian, but--"

"Harold, I'm dying. I want to spend my final days with the man I love."

"Satine, you are not dying," Harold whispered, and Marie gasped, shocked and hurt that Harold had lied to both of them.

"Pardon?"

"You are not dying. I--I never meant for all of this to happen. But Satine, you threatened to leave with that boy, and I--we needed you...I was desperate, my dear. I am so sorry."

"I'll leave now. Christian and I...we can still go!"

"The Duke will never stop looking for you. And he has sworn to hurt Christian should you refuse him."

"I told him what would happen if--"

"He won't kill Christian...he'll only destroy him...and his family...that's what he said. Satine, I believe that the Duke has gone mad--and I believe he is capable of anything."

Satine, collapsed into her chair, and began to sob. She was trapped--trapped in a world that she loathed with every fiber of her being.

***~***

**_~Five Years Later~_**

Christian gazed out the window, watching listlessly as the rain streaked down the windows of his study. Sighing heavily, he sat down at his desk, and picked up the programme once again. He'd often wondered when he and Satine would cross paths again. The show was tomorrow night, and Christian kept changing his mind on whether or not he should attend the play. He knew nothing of the story, nor did he care. The chance to see Satine again...after all this time...it was almost too intense to bear. His thoughts were interrupted when the door to his study opened.

"Sir, pardon the intrusion, but your daughter is asking for you."

"Yes, thank you Nadia."

Christian shook off his reverie, and ascended the stairs toward his three-year old daughter's bedroom.

"Daddy, I had a bad dream," Leah cried sadly.

"Shh, tis alright, my dear, I'm here."

Christian gathered Leah in his arms, and rocked her slowly, as she drifted back into a deep slumber. He watched her as she slept. She looked so much like her mother. But she had his eyes, that much was certain.

Smiling contently, Christian laid his daughter back onto her pillow. He made his way back down toward his study, with memories of a past he'd long ago abandoned dancing in his mind.

~*~

AN: "Life Is For Living" (berryman/buckland/champion/martin)


	5. How Wonderful Life Is, While You're In T...

_A Poet's Dream_

_Chapter Five_

_How Wonderful Life Is, While You're In The World_

**_~Five Years Later~_**

Christian gazed out the window, watching listlessly as the rain streaked down the windows of his study. Sighing heavily, he sat down at his desk, and picked up the programme once again. He'd often wondered when he and Satine would cross paths again. The show was tomorrow night, and Christian kept changing his mind on whether or not he should attend the play. He knew nothing of the story, nor did he care. The chance to see Satine again...after all this time...it was almost too intense to bear. His thoughts were interrupted when the door to his study opened.

"Sir, pardon the intrusion, but your daughter is asking for you."

"Yes, thank you Nadia."

Christian shook off his reverie, and ascended the stairs toward his three-year old daughter's bedroom.

"Daddy, I had a bad dream," Leah cried sadly.

"Shh, tis alright, my dear, I'm here."

Christian gathered Leah in his arms, and rocked her slowly, as she drifted back into a deep slumber. He watched her as she slept. She looked so much like her mother. But she had his eyes, that much was certain.

Smiling contently, Christian laid his daughter back onto her pillow. He made his way back down toward his study; with memories of a past he'd long ago abandoned dancing in his mind.

~*~

The theatre lobby was shimmering gracefully in the damp London night.  Ornate sconces and chandeliers hung from elaborately painted walls and vaulted ceilings, and well-dressed patrons floated eagerly through the narrow corridors leading to the main theatre.

Stunning murals spanned the high ceilings, overlooking the deep red seats that sat on the floor and balconies.  

At the front of the theatre, stood a large, high stage, presently concealed with a thick, deep red velvet curtain.

Christian walked down the main aisle tentatively, his heart racing.  He looked down at his ticket, then back up at the stage that stood ominously before him.  Taking a deep, shaky breath, Christian walked down to his row, and quickly found his seat.  He sat down heavily, and let out a relieved breath.

He was six rows away from the stage, in a seat on the main aisle; he was so close…yet so far, from his only love.

Moments later, the lights flickered, then dimmed to a soft glow.

The orchestra began playing, and the curtain lifted slowly, and moments later, Satine appeared.

She looked radiant; as beautiful as Christian remembered her.  Her long, deep red hair sat in perfect curls on top of her perfect head; her cherry red lips were pursed into a clever grin.  Her slender neck was decorated with an elaborate necklace; it's beauty paling next to the woman that carried it.

She opened her mouth to sing, and Christian felt his heart lurch; the moment was so beautiful, and so painful simoultaniously.  He thought that time, and distance would have dulled his need; his desire.

He was wrong.

He sat in the theatre numbly, his eyes never leaving Satine.  Somewhere in the middle of the second act, he heard the rumblings of a familiar tune.  He perked up, and leaned forward.  He saw Satine's smile falter, and saw her eyes glaze over slightly.  Unaware of his own tears, he watched Satine struggle through the song.  His song—his song to her.

Her song.

His heart broke, as a million tiny, wonderful memories broke through the defensive wall that he had erected years ago, just so he could get through the day.  He hadn't sung this song in years; and he was sure he'd never hear it again.

He shouldn't have come.

~**~

Satine found her mark, and listened as the band began her next song.  The familiar chords still made her ache for Christian, and she couldn't help but feel nauseous at the thought that they were using Christian's song without his permission.

She felt like she was betraying him, yet again.

It had been The Duke's idea; he'd recalled the song that Satine has sung to him the night they'd met.  Unaware that it was Christian's private gift to Satine, the Duke had insisted that it be added to the latest play.

The playwright had been furious—until he'd heard the song.

And now Satine was standing in the centre of the most famous stage in London, and she was hating every second of it.

_"And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it's done.  I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words.  How wonderful life is while you're in the world…"_

Satine took a deep breath, and tried to clear her mind of all images of Christian.  She could never do this song justice; she could never fill it with the beauty that it deserved.  She looked into the crowd, just as a man several rows back stood and turned to walk out of the theatre.

Her mind was playing tricks on her; the man looked just like…

No.  The Show Must Go On.

_"I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss.  Well a few of the verses well they've got me quite cross.  But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song.  It's for people like you that keep it turned on.  So excuse me forgetting but these things I do; you see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue.  Anyway the thing is what I really mean.  Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen."_

~**~

He couldn't stay a moment longer.  It was bad enough that Satine looked absolutely stunning; she had to sing a song that had meant so much to him…to them.

He ran from the theatre, berating himself for being so foolish.

He should never have come.

~**~

"My darling, where are you going at this hour?"

"My dear Duke, it's a beautiful morning.  I'd like to take full advantage of it."

"Of course.  Well give me a moment, and I shall accompany you," The Duke rose from his reading chair slowly.

"My dear Duke, that is not necessary.  I will be fine.  Please." Satine smiled sweetly, and floated out the door before the Duke could protest.

Satine let out a deep breath, and smiled, as she made her way out and toward the large marketplace.  She was thrilled to have a few moments of peace, away from the Duke, and away from that stuffy flat he had acquired for their short stay in London.

The sun shone brightly on the glimmering sidewalks, and Satine could not contain the content smile that invaded her face.  It had been weeks since she'd been able to walk in the sun alone—she reveled in every moment of it.

The marketplace was bustling, and Satine weaved her way through the crowds, stopping only to purchase a large red apple that had beckoned her.  She dusted the round, inviting fruit with her skirt, and took a large, luxurious bite.  The sweet juice dribbled down her chin, and she giggled softly.

She turned, and her eyes fell on a familiar form.  Once again, she was certain that her eyes were deceiving her.

It couldn't be.

She pulled the apple away from her mouth, and watched as the man turned toward her, his eyes searching for something—or someone.

Christian.

The apple she was holding fell out of her hands, and she stifled a small sob.

He had yet to see her.  He appeared to be preoccupied.

Suddenly, a young, thin woman in drab servant clothing appeared, carrying a small, beautiful child.  Satine watched, as Christian's eyes lit up, as he took the little girl into his arms.

Satine smiled.  Christian had clearly found love, found a new life.  He had moved on, and made his dream come true.

It was everything she'd always wanted for him.

But it broke her heart.

("Your Song" by Elton John and Bernie Taupin)


End file.
